


Blinded

by IronPanda



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Healer Bilbo, Loner Bilbo, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mild depictions of blood, Romance, quite a bit of tea and coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 13:53:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronPanda/pseuds/IronPanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins has the ability to heal a person in their dying moment. But in return he feels every inch of their: memories, panic, pain, and afterwards he's erased from their mind. It's a thankless job, and as a result he becomes content with being alone. </p>
<p>Until one day someone does remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinded

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to take a bit of a different direction with this, so I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I do not own The Hobbit in all of its wonder.
> 
> Read over by my good friend ellie-bronte.

Five- thirty in the afternoon and a man was bleeding on the pavement. He'd been struck through by a blade, and it’s quite far from where most could find him.  
The lacerations were deep he would be dead within half an hour, with or without medical assistance. 

Bilbo Baggins held a yellow umbrella when turned down that specific alley, he saw the wide shock ridden eyes of the fallen man, red pooled on a green shirt, and blossomed. The short man kneeled by the body, set down the umbrella, and he put his hands to the blood soaked chest.

"I don't know why your life is so important, but I will do as guided. How inconvenient, the one day you're not wearing your gear am I right?" The honey haired healer said.

And slowly the pain ebbed into Bilbo's chest, he gritted his teeth and his breathing became ragged; panic, fear, wonder, and regret all stung in his mind, his stomach wanted to rip itself open.

But the man's breathing evened out, his eyes became hooded, and Bilbo yanked himself away.

He said to the man on the floor as he stood, "Bard is your name isn't it? My name is Bilbo Baggins, and you won't remember it by the time authorities arrive. But you won't be leaving your post just yet."

Another day for the fluffed up title Inspector.

The man picked up his yellow umbrella as sirens neared, and waited. Chief Gandalf would clear this up soon, and he could go back home make a cup of tea and try to forget another's painful last few moments.

 

\---  
Pain, dark tendrils of pain pierced him. He had stood late in the afternoon outside of the back street exit of Bofur's cafe, he had looked at his watch for the time, he was wearing his signature black blazer, and nothing was under two hundred dollars He had only taken about five steps when the shots had rung, clear and loud. 

Cowardice, his mind raged, he was unprepared and couldn't duck fast enough. 

The pain, was instant blood must have filled his lungs he found it hard to breath. He did not remember who was near, who yelled about calling the police, he only remembered the dull thud of the pavement as he went crashing down. He knew he was going to die, his heart would give out, he would drown on his own blood, liquid escaped his lips in a trickle, all he could see was the cloudy sky. 

It was near to storming, it had stormed the last few days. Not even a clear sky to gaze up at.

Yellow, he remembered yellow, and hands to his chest. no use, he knew he would not have more than two minutes, he waited for the memories to flood. Should he not see every moment, and mistake that led to this point? Should he not see his family at least in his mind before it all ended? Fili, Kili- all that he had left. They would be left so alone.

"You'll get to see whoever they are when I'm done, just stop wasting your breath." A young man's voice snapped at him. Thorin thought angels were to be benevolent, and have voices that coaxed dead souls.

"Yeah right, that's the first I've heard of being an angel, will you shut up, clearly it's working too well. We're not supposed to talk." The voice countered full of snark.

The pain left him, it tingled almost pleasurable, the relief, the numb sensation, he could no longer cough, instead his face relaxed.

How cruel his vision was becoming fuzzy and he could not make out their faces.

But there were grey eyes, watery, filled with pain, so much strange sympathy. He wanted to reach to the face he knew was trying so hard to save him.

What is your name? He hoped he didn't just think the words.

"Really? You won't remember it, but it's Bilbo Baggins."

Darkness greeted Thorin by the last syllable.

 

Thorin woke up thinking about blue grey eyes and iridescent yellow. He inhaled hard full gasps, and put a hand to his chest. He winced, it was still tender and many wires were attached to him, the familiar beep of a hospital monitor made steady rhythm. 

He rubbed a hand to his eyes until his vision cleared of grey and took in the soft blue wallpaper. Background noise, the television was on and there was a movie involving dragons playing on the screen.

"Uncle you're awake," Kili exclaimed in his usual volume. His bed lowered in pressure and Thorin leaned back just in time to be hovered over by two young men. They looked the same as he remembered, though their eyes were red, Kili's nails were bitten ragged and low, Fili's lower lip looked torn, worn red.

"Dwalin and Balin went out to get breakfast, we told them we wouldn't leave," Fili leaned in, relief evident in his round blue eyes. 

"I'm alive." Thorin rasped as they pressed closer as if they had to confirm his solid presence. 

"Doctor says you shouldn't have been, apparently you took two shots, one in the lung-" Fili started.

And Kili continued. "One in the heart- bam straight through-" 

"But they are patched up, says it was a miracle-"

"All they had to do was stitch you up again,"

His nephews clung closer. And he started to stitch together blurred memories. The cafe, the gunshots, yellow, blue, pain, pleasure.

A face, round with worry lines too prevalent to be natural, and honey curled hair.

"Someone saved me." He mumbled, and he rubbed his forehead.

"There was some guy who called the ambulance, and Bofur said he heard the shots, saw you outside, he said the guy walked away though right when he got there." Fili paused his eyes downcast, and the curve of his mouth was weak. "We're glad you're alive, Kili here was wailing when Dwalin got the call you might be-"

"Shut up Fili you bawled when we got to the ICU." They glared at each other from over their Uncle, they had regressed from older teens back to their tweens in a matter of seconds.

He was alive, and he caused those red rings that marred Kili's eyes, where there should be smooth skin of youth and laughter.

He did not know why he was alive, his life codex would have plenty of reasons why he should not be. But he tightened a grip on his nephews’ hands, they quieted and looked at him with a curious gaze. He would have to do better.

"Hey Uncle's smiling a little, must be the meds," Kili's voice is a bad attempt at a whisper.

"We should probably let you rest again Uncle, we'll be here." Fili had withdrawn and sat back in his chair, though his gaze was locked on between Thorin and his monitor, as if daring anything to change after this development.

Thorin had felt very tired, the energy was sapped from him, and he leaned far into the pillow, his hands had fallen to the side. 

He dreamed of a man in a green sweater, where the sleeve ends were stained dark red. 

 

\---

 

"Captain Bard!" An auburn haired woman yelled.

The man turns just in time to see his charge, the District Attorney get shot, it had to have been three bullets. Surprise bloomed on the thin handsome face before the pain, and Bard runs forward to catch the falling body.

"D.A Sindaren is down," He yelled into the comm, the gunshots are dulled, he saw Officer Tauriel aim from behind her car door, and the beserker man let out a cry of pain. The area stills, and rain pours onto the pavement blending with the pools of blood of the injured.

"You have the right to remain silent-" Tauriel was taking care of the target, the man who with his gang members opened fire on several cops as they exited the court house.

Thranduil gasped for air, choked and his eyes pinched together.

"How long till the ambulance?" The Captain demanded.

"Traffic, it should be here soon though." An officer answered.

A shadow covered both the Captain and the Commissioner. "That's not enough time," A man monotoned. Bard noted the rain stopped coming down upon them as hard, a yellow tint is casted by the bright umbrella. The short man had an average visage, young looking, with mousey golden curls that wisp around his face. His eyes were rimmed dark grey, like sleep has evaded him for years. 

"Captain Bard, please assist the other officers who may be injured and," Chief Gandalf closed the door to his car, the lights still bright on top and walked over. "My friend, Inspector Bilbo Baggins can help the District Attorney."

"Chief," Captain Bard moved, though hesitant, the DA had started convulsing, his body going into shock.

"Move I can handle this." The man with the yellow umbrella dropped to his knees, the yellow tool set to the side. 

Captain Bard felt familiarity, as strange cold washed over him, and his chest throbbed light, a ghost feeling from his injury. He left as if his legs were compelled by another force.

"Can you save him?" The chief asked as he took over the knelt position by the blond commissioner's body.

"He's got a son who he loves more than the world itself, and a verdict that no amount of bribing would sway him from." The blond gritted his teeth, his chest had taken on a hollow feeling. "He isn't going to die today," Bilbo muttered, and his eyes fluttered close for concentration.

\---

A whistle pierced through like an echo through the house. With shuffled steps Bilbo picked up the green steaming pot and poured the cup so it steeped. His house was hopelessly quiet, even with his radio on in the background.

His hand shook, a little twinge of pain hit his wrist as he lifted the yellow cup. 

"Still sore," He murmured to himself. The man he saved the night before was hit hard, and if Bilbo were a lesser man he would have dreaded the pain to follow, but he knew he had to save another.

He sat on the garnet leather couch and cut on the television. As always it was on the news, telling him of the people he couldn't help, and reminding him of the people he did. 

"District Attorney Thranduil Sindaren fell under fire just last night, a reliable source says suspects are those from the notorious Orc mob, but there is still no confirmation from the police."

Another singular evening full of news reports and the world of books.

Someone knocked on his door. Bilbo jumped, his heart thudded and he dropped his book. He checked his phone, 6:00 p.m, it might be Gandalf at this point. He tied the robe tighter around his waist and took a deep attitude altering breath.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he called out and swung open his door.

"Good Evening Mister- You," First mistake, Bilbo stuttered the words. The man before him was familiar. 

Thorin, you saved him a month ago, his mind supplied. His blue eyes looked clear and determined, the same short cropped black hair, shot with a couple streaks of grey, and he had an expensive looking black suit on.

"What are you doing here?" Bilbo doesn't let go of the door and he doesn't step aside either.

"Bilbo Baggins," the man started and when he wasn’t gasping for life his voice was very deep, smooth, like a rounded pearly stone.

"Yes..." Bilbo doesn't mean for his voice to shake, laced, with suspicion but he does not dare hope either, he mentally beat down the quickened pulse in his chest.

"You saved my life." Thorin continued, though he didn’t step closer.

"W-what, I don't know what you're talking about." He denied with vehemence.

"But I do know what I'm talking about, the day I was shot, one month ago, you were there, you talked to me, and I don't know what you did, but you saved my life. I know you recognize me." The man's tone is overly confident.

"You're not supposed to remember." Bilbo let it slip out like a whisper, his eyes locked with Thorin's the tall man looked ready to say something. He then furrowed his brow and lifted his chin. "Well if that is all, you're welcome, now good evening."

And he shut the door. He stood there on the other side, and waited for another knock, for another sound. But nothing came and his heart stayed erratic.

He's not supposed to remember. Bilbo told himself over and over again. It's just a fluke. After some time of having his back leaned against the door, he stood up straight, and moved towards to his living room. His tea had gotten lukewarm, and his hand shook still as he took careful stubborn sips.

 

Two days later he ran into Thorin again. This time at the bakery he had found the man lying near some month ago. Thorin was in some expensive looking dark coat, seated in the top corner of the wood art decorated room, long legs crossed and he was reading on some fancy little tablet, with a large coffee. 

"Got a Medium Macchiato for a Bilbo," the barista with the curled mustache called, and Bilbo turned his attention a little too late. Thorin looked up with those strong cerulean eyes and it stalled Bilbo from looking away. 

But he did, and he grabbed his coffee and sat at one of the furthest tiny brown table after leaving a couple dollar’s tip in the jar. He shrugged into his loose cashmere, shoulders hunched and gripped to his coffee cup. His grey eyes traveled over to Thorin's table, and once again met a staring gaze. His cheeks stung and he had felt ten years younger.

"Oh and here is your warmed banana nut muffin lad." The small plate was set down with a wink from the barista. He even tipped his floppy winged hat in a slight move. "I gave yah an extra shot of espresso on the house, you looked like you needed it."

"Thanks," Bilbo responded in a small voice, He continued to tense under Thorin's constant gaze and the barista had yet to leave him alone.

"Was no problem, the name's Bofur and I'm here to help ya if ya need it, like another coffee, or maybe some sleepy time tea."

"Ye-yes thanks," Bilbo said even quieter and his mouth twitched rather than smiled, and his eyes wandered to Thorin who had gone back to his tablet.

"Oh don't worry ‘bout Thorin, he doesn't bite. But I can get ya his number if ya want it." There was another wink from Bofur who continued to dally around Bilbo's table.

Bilbo nearly sputtered his first sip of coffee. "No, no, that's quiet alright." Bofur had begun laughing halfway through his statement. "Don't you have some other customers-" To bother "To care for?"  
"I suppose I should go back and help out my good for nothin' student worker. Thinks just cause he's like family he can cause chaos with Margorie."

Bilbo didn't ask who Margorie was out of fear of continued conversation. Instead he messed with the only piece of recent technology he owned, his phone. He sifted through emails from Gandalf, a couple from his cousins, some Took family baby shower, all while melted caramel and semi bitter coffee soothed his craving taste buds.

Down to the last bits of his lush muffin, and coffee, he drained the cup and left the small cafe with quick steps.

"Mister Baggins!" A firm voice he did not want to hear at the moment called, and regrettably he stopped.

"Yes, Good Morning." His eyes flitted to the side and his smile is weak as Thorin strode up to him with towering, sure steps. 

Up close to him, Thorin looked at a loss for words, such a clever and prideful looking man, and Bilbo knew, he remembered the pain, the panic of dying at a cowards bullet, the regret, the strong nuclear feeling of family, justice-

"You haunt me."

"What-" Bilbo clamored for words more efficient but the bottom of his stomach was rife with sick. This is why no one should remember. "I-I'm sorry, for the trouble I've caused you. Mister Durin."  
"No, it's no trouble." Thorin was nervous, he looked nervous. "Would you- like to go for a drink sometime in the future. I would like to thank you." The words are near mumbled despite the expression.

Bilbo had at the time, gaped unattractively. A date is not something he has had in years. By choice.

"I'm not-" He bit his lower lip, clenched his umbrella close. "When?" He sighed against his better judgment. A thank you would be nice for once.

Even with a man he's now shared emotions with, memories, if the other knew he wouldn't have smiled the way he did, a little half grin that de-aged his face.

 

It rained the night of the ‘thank- you’ drink and Bilbo had saved the life of a young woman who had an unfortunate incident with a serial assailant. With her alive they would be able to catch the attacker in no time. 

He had been nervous that more people he saved would show up ‘thanking him’ but he can't ignore the tug, the way his mind clouded until he was in the exact right spot, and the energy was returned to the victim's body.

He didn't want anymore of them to remember.

They met at some small restaurant. It was much nicer than a simple drink. Thorin stood by the entrance as if he half expected Bilbo not to then up.

Bilbo almost didn't. Instead he ordered a White Zinfandel and He knew Thorin was going to order a Pinot Noir.

A couple of sips in they introduced themselves casually, talked about what colleges they attended, the places Thorin had been, the houses the man had owned, the places Bilbo hadn’t been, the romance novel he ghost wrote once but will not speak of.

Bilbo had actually laughed by some point, and he caught himself off guard with the light, weight lifting chuckle that had left him.

"Did you save that kid from the other day?" Thorin asked after they placed their orders.

"What no, the doctors in this city do have great medical training for the most part." That was supposed to be a joke.

"I'm sorry." Thorin did look apologetic enough even while cutting the meat of his lamb.

"How are your nephews?" Bilbo cursed himself after he said it, that wasn’t a topic they had breached yet.

The raven locked man appeared surprised. "They are doing well, one recently got a job at Bofur's, Fili, so Kili has been around there often. Bofur may fire him soon at that rate."

"Ah yes he took my order this morning then, he wasn’t bad." He attempted to steer the conversation to something more vague.

Another silence takes them. But it is a little more comfortable.

"Why did you save me?" Thorin spoke again. 

He didn't ask how. That piqued Bilbo’s interest. "I never know why, just intuition."

"Thank you." Thorin repeated, this time with a small grin.

"Yes you've said that, you're awfully polite despite your grim looks." Bilbo rolled his grey eyes and stuck a fork into his shepherd’s pie. 

"My sister used to say I’d make a good Grim Reaper.” 

They laughed, and talked more, their tongues loosened by the drinks. Thorin admitted it was more than gratitude, Bilbo admitted he's lived alone for ten years, much to his dismay later on.

They still left the restaurant with a promise to see one another soon.

A week, two lives saved, three lost. He couldn't reach them all. 

They met at Bilbo's. Had dinner and Zinfandels of different tints at a small Italian restaurant that took cash only. Then end up back at Bilbo's.

Thorin had leaned in for a kiss, Bilbo almost leapt away.

It was soft, and it had been years since he's felt a soft kiss, there was electric between parted moving lips, the scratch of a beard, and he reached up while Thorin reached down.

They pulled apart.

"You're jumpy," Thorin stated void of insult.

"I'm sorry, I'm just being stupid." Bilbo whispered. "I think you're going to forget."

"I won’t.” Thorin reassured.

"But no one remembers, I keep waiting, why, why do you remember me?" His voice cracked against his will.

"Maybe there is a reason. My grandfather used to tell me all the time there are reasons for things that never come to fruition.” Thorin cupped his cheek with an insulated fitted palm.

"For once I want to know the answer. I never know the answer, I just go where I’m supposed to, I don't even know if it works outside of this city, I just head there, I take the pain, and I walk away. If it’s not a part of some damn predetermined will, I can’t even save the people I want to save. " More than once Bilbo considered ending the relationship, for his own sanity. 

 

 

A few nights later Thorin had shared: he had made a few enemies, and a few bad choices. His regret is not tying up the loose ends.

"I was known for dealing death." It was whispered in Bilbo’s ear, like a shivered secret that should never leave the space between them. “And I’m going after the man who shot me.”

“You know who it is?” Bilbo shifted in the seat so he could look directly at him. “But you didn’t see their face.”

“I know, and I know who is after me, and I know at one moment I will be able to kill him.” 

“If you continue to think like that, eventually what you want will find you.” Bilbo warned.

“Is that why you keep searching for an answer you say isn’t there?” Thorin teased, and Bilbo shrugged off the arm around his shoulders as his response.

“Don’t be a smart ass.” Bilbo snapped back, though he did lean his head against Thorin’s shoulder. “Go back to the movie.” The long forgotten old action movie had only fifteen minutes left when they started to pay attention again. 

“You started it,” Thorin countered, and he earned another shove from the blond. 

Thorin leaned into his ear again and whispered. ”You smile easier.” 

“Wish I could say the same for you.” Bilbo nipped back in a playful mood. “You don’t smile easily, it intimidates people.”

“But not you.” Thorin aimed to trail the soft light kisses from Bilbo’s ear to his mouth, but the smaller man moved away.

“It did once, that day at Bofur’s café, when you wouldn’t stop staring.”

“That’s because you were staring at me as well.” Thorin leaned forward again, and looked a fraction disgruntled when Bilbo held up his finger and ducked away when Thorin tried to close the distance. 

“Still your fault, you’re distracting. Like right now,” He had smiled again, and let Thorin end the silly chase with another searing kiss that never got old.

 

They continued to see each other for the next two weeks. No longer just dating, and more comfortable with their fingers laced together during a routine stroll to Giacomo’s Italian restaurant. Bilbo still only knew the surface of Thorin’s job, and Thorin still only knew the surface of Bilbo’s ability. But Bilbo did stop searching for a moment where Thorin would go blank, he did let the walls inside him tumble down in portions. 

 

Sex didn't feel like _that_ years ago. He remembered that much. Through the sweat, the slick skin, his tight grip on Thorin's shoulders. 

Thorin growled and Bilbo panted. For once he let go, opened up his quivering thighs, and let himself be stretched from tight pain to numbing pleasure. He had to contain his release with a douse of sheer will.

He groaned, voice still soft, and Thorin swore something in his ear, he could hardly see with his head thrown back, neck exposed to be kissed more, bitten and lapped up, only smell cedar dark cologne and gasped unintelligible words when he's entered, stretched by a thick rod, and filled.

Throes of passion. A steady rhythm, a clear pressure that pulled a whimper from his throat.

The pleasure was blinding to his sensible nature, he just wanted more, and he had held on with a desperate want to say something cliché like ‘I love you.’

 

 

There was no cloud over his mind, no sharp pang, the sky was clear and the sun had gifted its rays in the chilled afternoon, but he still heard the screams anyways.

He didn’t walk away, it wasn’t the sense but his own voice telling him 'go there'.

There is a little crowd by Giacomo’s . 

He saw the blond nephew, crouched to the ground. The boy yelled and pleaded ‘Someone call an ambulance.’

“Move out of the way, Inspector coming through,” He pushed his way through, for some reason his vision had blurred, like he hadn’t really seen Thorin’s body on the ground, mouth gasping for air. That can’t be Thorin, they were supposed to meet a little later so he could be formally introduced to the nephews.

There is another man, bald with many scars already dead . Where was the sense?

"No, Thorin," were the first words he could say, and Bilbo crouched next to Fili. “What happened?”

"He just came at us, midday," Tears had welled in the blond’s blue eyes. "He was aiming for me, but Uncle got him and took the hit. It’s my fault, shit , shit, Uncle don't die, you've done this before don’t die."

“Take deep breaths Fili, it’s not your fault.” Bilbo coaxed, though he was emptied of good emotion.

Thorin’s eyes found Bilbo, as if he understood, now was not the time.

"No, no, no, come on why, why now?" He pushed his hands to the wound. "Move back I'm going to try to stop the bleeding until the ambulance gets here, are you taking those deep breaths Fili?" 

His hands squish with blood over the firm abdomen. It was too fast, blood pooled out, and Bilbo wasn't feeling the pain.

But his emotional pain was blinding.

“No umbrella today?” Thorin noted, as if he was a little disappointed.

“Clear skies, don’t you watch the news?” Bilbo bit out with as much snark that was left in him. 

"Fili is fine, so am I." Thorin coughed out.

"No you're not don’t be an idiot and waste your breath." Bilbo sobbed out, a weak palm brushed at his cheek, it smeared a bit of the blood on the round surface.

"Thank you." Thorin exhaled.

"You're being awfully polite for such a grim man," Bilbo's arms were giving up futilely, he leaned forward just muttering to himself. He heard Fili saying the ambulance is coming, but Bilbo counted the seconds left. 

'Please, please just this once.' He implored. ‘Work for me.’

_Tires screeched, glass shattered, his parents bodies covered in blood, eyes empty. They had been on the way to pick him up, just a block over. His mom had a gash in her neck, his dad, had crushed ribs and punctured lungs. The sense didn't come that day, so he saw nothing but their dead bodies._

_He couldn't ever save those he wanted to save._

'Just this once,' he begged to every god who gave him this gift. Something tingled in his palms. Contentment, fear, desire, and still regret. He saw himself in duration of that bout of conscience.

And the light, pain, memories of his own life, it all blinded him.

 

"Hi, my name is Bilbo Baggins, I'm here to see Thorin Durin his- ah - nephew called me and said he was awake." He tapped his fingers against his side, his arm felt empty still though it had been a month since he carried his umbrella.

He walked in the direction of room 322, relieved that he was finally permitted to visit. Fili had cornered him one day when he tried to avoid the coffee shop, said that his Uncle was waking up , and that he’d want to see him when friends could visit. That was a couple weeks before.

The hallway led a long white tiled path under iridescent lights.

Bilbo walked into the room, nervous amidst the chatter of the occupants, there was the other nephew, Kili, who looked at him curiously, Fili, who waved, and Bofur who winked knowingly.

Bilbo was so jittered up he hardly heard Fili say “Uncle’s being discharged later today.”

Thorin was sitting up, his skin made pale against the soft blue patients gown, but otherwise he was the picture of health.

He looked up at Bilbo, and his eyes, those blue eyes were vacant. Confused, a little lost. 

"Ah I was just checking, I was there during the shooting, I'm glad you are ok Mister Durin." 

The blond turned and left the room.

 

\---

Thorin watched the man leave, and his torso throbbed, with a light ghost pain. 

“Well that was odd-“ Bofur broke the palpable awkward tension of the room.

“Who was that?” Thorin was met with looks of surprise from his nephews and his friend.

“Ya don’t remember Bilbo? Your Bilbo?” Bofur’s hazel eyes were globes and he scratched his head through the top of his brown hat.

“Bilbo-“ Thorin whispered the empty name, and his head ached. There was gold, a dark copper or bronze, grey eyes, yellow, darkness. He became frustrated within a minute, it was like a memory he couldn’t grasp, a lost thought, a loose piece taken without his permission.

“I don’t remember.” He said, his hands clenched the white sheets of the bed ready to rip them apart. “How did I survive?”

“I don’t know Bilbo stopped the bleeding I guess, long enough for you to get patched up.” Fili responded, once again he started to bite his lip red.

“And Azog?” He did remember that seedy man who aimed to kill Fili in some poor convoluted revenge plot. It was when they were out, they were getting food. The food was supposed to be a surprise, some for Kili, and some for another. A plate of pasta; chicken marsala, and garlic bread to share.

“Dead cold after you got to him. He just fell to the ground.” Fili made a plop motion with his hands, and Kili demonstrated the noise.

Thorin looked at his hands, his head pulsated with a migraine all over. And yet it didn’t stop him from his thoughts about the visitor. He visualized the pointed nose with a round tip, weighed worry lined eyes, but still they were bright for a moment. The crestfallen expression that crossed the man’s face, it was subtle but enough to make Thorin want to brush the soft pinked skin of the other’s cheeks.

Left over, and empty emotions crept up on him, like tendrils of vexation.

\---

Bilbo could try to lie to himself and say he didn't cry. But he did, he drank Ayurvedic tea and that didn't help, he curled up on the couch with a bottle of gifted white zinfandel, and almost poisoned himself. 

The next morning, he opened the door with a little hope and a blinding headache.

"Mister Gandalf,” He greeted with a dead amount of hospitality.

"Hello Bilbo," the man stepped in when Bilbo made way. He didn't comment on the disheveled robe or the red mottled face.

"Is there something up? A new case?" Bilbo was ready to dive back into work.

"No I was just checking on you, making sure you are doing well my boy." Gandalf gave with a once over, before he turned his attention to the hung portrait of Bilbo’s parents. The one Bilbo had yet to take down from the entrance way.

"I am no better but not worse than before." The honey haired man murmured while his finger traced the yellow wall.

“I thought you were seeing someone.” Gandalf commented.

Bilbo doesn't know how Gandalf gets his information, but it was the wrong time for it.

"I was." And there hadn’t been a breakup to be sour over. The Chief cleared his throat.

"One month ago, Thorin Durin made another miraculous recovery from some fatal injuries, and now he’s been released from the hospital, that’s according to the report filed at least." Of course the old man knew. He had some strange skill of his own that made him a bit of a meddler. 

"He doesn't remember Gandalf." Bilbo confided, his fingers had scratched against the surface of the wall with just one harmless swipe.

It had taken him days to scrub his fingers clean of Thorin’s blood. And it took a week to get over the left over pain and empathetic connection. 

A white eyebrow was raised for elaboration.

"He did once. I have no reason why, and now I'm just left empty still without a damn reason." The admittance had been more to himself, than to his friend. And it iced his insides. "I'd rather not talk about it anymore Mister Gandalf. I will see you again soon enough."

"Have a good morning my lad. Do try and get some rest." Gandalf paused before the door. "Maybe now is the time for starting over."

Raw stinging tears assaulted his cheeks when the door closed. And he made some Green tea through blurry vision.

 

Five pm, four cups of tea, and a pint of gelato later Gandalf knocked again.

Only Thorin was at the door and his blue orbs appeared no less confused than before. 

"I was told you saved my life." The man started, he was the same Thorin, not even a soulless copy, he had the same baring the same strength in his voice, the same large memorable hands.

"Yes," Bilbo’s voice was raw and he couldn't care his curls were a mess, that his eyes had been rimmed pink and grey. He can't hope for an answer.

"I want to say thank you." Of course, he told himself with a tinge of bitterness, once Thorin had thanked him with even kissed littered across his bare torso.

"If that's all you're welcome," he made to shut the door but Thorin stopped it.

"I was told we knew each other before." The older man continued.

Bilbo stayed silent and looked at his hardwood floor.

"I was told, we may have loved each other before, or that I loved you. That you’re not just a dream I had." Thorin’s eyes searched Bilbo, pierced through him, and each curious word was bittersweet.

"You don't remember, it may just have been a dream." His smile twitched in faux pleasantry. 

Thorin shook his head. "I remember bits and pieces. Green. Grey eyes. A new taste for pasta and wine. I was told by Bofur, and Fili who you were that day. And Dwalin said I wouldn't ever shut up about a Bilbo Baggins. "

Bilbo's lungs hitched, he wanted to heave, his hand shook against the door. Don’t, his mind said, it’s just a fluke.

"I feel a pull when I look in your eyes, a balance, and you haunted me since you visited. But you never came back." Thorin sounded mildly upset.

"You don't remember." The shorter man tried one more time. _You want him_ , his subconscious teased.

"No, but I feel something, and I want to do more than thank you. Time is missing from my life," Thorin's mouth is set in a hard line, his brow heavy as if his determination should have been enough proof Bilbo. "Unless you don't feel anything for me anymore."

"No, no," Bilbo yanked the door open fully, the thoughts bubbled like thick spheres of air and poured out of him. "I felt something every moment, from when you were shot till this very second. I felt something when you looked at me, and had no clue who I was, when you became just like the rest."

"Then you will give me another chance. Us another chance." Thorin ordered though his voice was soft.

Bilbo let him in. "My tea is getting cold." And Thorin’s steps were right behind him without pause. Until they reach the corner of the hall.

"This umbrella…" Thorin muttered his fingers traced the curved brown handle, of the yellow shade in the ceramic holder.

"Do you want tea?" Bilbo sighed, his face too tired for a genial smile. He doesn’t want to be cold, but who is he to stop Thorin from walking out and being content with what he had?

"Do you want to go for a drink with me?" Thorin asked over him.

"As a thank you?" Bilbo glanced over with raised brows. Thorin’s dark eyebrows drew together and he fidgeted with his hands.

"As a date." The tall male doesn’t break the stare. Quiet hung over them and Bilbo gripped his yellow mug.

"Your face is so grim." His tongue betrayed his mind. But Thorin's eyes were so blue, and familiar. "I'm saying yes." He clarified.

Thorin smiled, it was half of a true one, but it was more genuine that anything Bilbo could concoct at the present time.

Every step of the way they would have to try to learn each other again. Bilbo still wanted an answer, he wanted to escaped the possibility of that sort of numbing pain again. But he wanted that weightless feeling back, to know contentment in every moment he got.

**Author's Note:**

> A happy ending! In a way.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> The story behind where I got the idea is kind of sad, even if I don't know the outcome, but let me know if you'd like Thorin's P.O.V, I can't promise it right away, but there's a lot missing from his side (Like the rest of the dwarves).
> 
> I also would like to hear some theories on Thorin and if he has any special abilities, because I hinted towards some specific things but I'd like to know what you guys think.
> 
> You can drop a line to my tumblr: pandamani, or just comment here and I should answer back by the next time I'm around Ao3.


End file.
